


In Bloom

by cupidty11



Series: Gaylienz's Kinkalot 2020 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), First Time, Frottage, M/M, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidty11/pseuds/cupidty11
Summary: When it becomes obvious that Merlin isn’t going to push him away, Arthur very gently kisses him. It’s chaste and closed mouth, a test, a question that Merlin answers eagerly. His legs wrap around Arthur’s and he opens for his king; a flower blooming under the sun’s warmth.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Gaylienz's Kinkalot 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867570
Comments: 18
Kudos: 347
Collections: Kinkalot 2020





	In Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kinkalot 2020 Bingo for the prompt: Flowers

Spring was finally coming, Merlin thought as he carefully picked his way through the forest. The winter had been long and hard for most everyone. It was a relief to see the new buds on the familiar trees, to hear the sound of lethargic animals as they awoke to nature’s call.

He stumbled a bit over a tree root and managed not to fall only by swinging his arms around a bit madly.

“Good save.” A deep voice called. A deep, familiar voice.

Merlin’s head shot up and...yep. There he was, Arthur Pendragon. The man was leaning casually against a nearby tree further along the path, as if it was something he did everyday. “Arthur?!” His voice came out a bit high pitched. The king regent shouldn’t be here. He should be off training his knights or talking with his councilors or, or holding court.

“Merlin.” Arthur replied, calmly.

Suspicion immediately overtook his surprise. Merlin straightened up and asked a bit cautiously, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you.” Arthur said, infuriatingly.

Merlin raised an eyebrow and held out the very obvious basket he was carrying. “I’m picking herbs for Gaius. What are YOU doing?”

Arthur ignored the question because he was a prat. “Then you won’t mind if I follow you.”

The servant squinted at him. “What’s going on? You’ve never wanted to come herb picking with me before.” The couple times Merlin had offered, usually in response to Arthur’s complaints about boredom, he’d been brushed off with comments about it being even more boring or it being girls work or some other nonsense.

“Perhaps, I’m just keeping track of my wayward servant. He does tend to wander off quite a bit.” Arthur’s feet ate up the distance between them, until he stopped next to Merlin and nudged him with an elbow. “Usually to the tavern.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Why would I be going to some tavern in the woods, when the Rising Sun is right in town?”

“I would never dare pretend to understand your thought process,  _ Mer _ lin.” Then he slung an arm around the warlock's shoulder.

“Oookay.” Merlin had the beginnings of a suspicion as to why Arthur was here. “Well, I’m not. I’m looking for mallow, which is a herb. For Gaius.” He shook the basket again for good measure, but was careful not to dislodge Arthur’s arm.

His hanger-on nodded. “Then you won’t mind if I follow you.”

Merlin looked at him from under his lashes, feeling shy and a bit warm under the exasperation. He had no idea if Arthur genuinely wanted to prevent him from stumbling into an imaginary tavern. Or perhaps, this was an excuse. To get out of the castle and the pressures of regency. Or to just...be with him. Either way, it wasn’t like Merlin minded.

“Alright.” He says, leaning into Arthur a bit. Perhaps, this wasn’t that odd. Things between them had been...interesting lately. This might just potentially be one instance in a long line of moments that seemed to edge towards something new. Their banter had gained a flirtatious edge, especially when they were alone. Arthur had been quite, well,  _ nice _ to him. His chore lists were not nearly as long, and the ones he really disliked had been fostered off to George. And Merlin was currently wearing the new neckerchief Arthur had randomly bestowed upon him last week, red and embroidered with blue and gold thread on the edges.

Just generally, he’d been less of a prat than usual and Merlin liked it, even if he was unsure if he was imagining it. He didn’t THINK that he was, for he knew Arthur better than himself. But, what if he was? Then he would truly be the fool Arthur accused him of sometimes.

Merlin knew he loved Arthur with a maddening ache in his soul. After all, he'd only killed a bunch of people for him, and nearly died many times over to save him. Oh, and thrown nearly all his morals and scruples to the wind because Arthur was now the most important person in his life. Merlin knew it was probably unhealthy. He still had plenty of friends who he cared about; their most trusted knights, Gwen, Gaius. He still spoke as often as possible to his mother via letters and recently, scrying via a water bowl. Merlin tried to be pleasant and knowable to as many of Camelot’s citizens as possible. Not only because he liked it, but because it provided invaluable information. It was useful to keep track of the comings and goings, able to see if anyone was acting strangely. The point being, Merlin wasn’t completely 100% wrapped up in Arthur.

It’s just that everything he does is for him. Almost like Arthur was half of his soul, or something. And was the reason he was able to get out of bed some mornings when the weight of destiny crushed him. Arthur was the sun, the one he had hung all of his hopes and dreams on. So, Merlin lets Arthur follow him.

They began to walk, for once allowing there to be a bit of silence between them but for the sounds of the forest. Arthur kept his arm around him, even if it made it a bit harder to traverse the rough ground. The silence doesn’t last long. Soon they’re back to bantering back and forth, hiding laughter and affection between insults and mockery.

Eventually they arrive in the clearing where the mallow is growing in abundance. Most do not have their blooms yet. It will be a few more weeks until the whole place is awash with glorious purple flowers. Luckily the stems and leaves are the most important part. Merlin likes this clearing, the grass is even and not itchy. There are often wildflowers and butterflies everywhere. Right now of course, most everything is barely starting to come back to life after the harsh winter. But, it's still a beautiful place.

Merlin walks out from under Arthur’s warmth to kneel down and begin doing what he came here for. He is careful as always to cut the stem (with a knife given to him by Arthur) and not pull it out by its roots. Merlin is mildly surprised when the other man kneels down next to him and begins to help without even a complaint. A bubble of pride catches in his chest. Arthur has grown so much.

They both reach for the same plant, their fingers brushing. Instead of pulling away, they leave their hands there, overlapping slightly. Merlin feels the bubble in his chest grow, transform into a familiar ache. A slight flush colors his cheeks. He looks up at Arthur through his lashes. The sun paints him golden, as it always does. A halo, a crown in his hair.

Arthur looks at him with darkened eyes, swallows hard, and ruins everything. “Get your own plant. This one’s mine.”

Merlin rolls his eyes so hard it hurts a bit. He ignores the prat, grabs a fist full of grass and throws at him. The look on his face is comical. Like Merlin had thrown a gauntlet down at his feet; a few blades are sticking to his bangs. Merlin grins. Arthur sputters about insolence and audacity, but he sees the way his lips twitch with the effort of fighting off his own smile. The servant just laughs at him.

In revenge, the king regent shoves him. Not hard, for he doesn’t need to. Merlin’s balance is such that he tumbles over quite easily. Arthur laughs this time, genuine and loud. It's as gorgeous as him.

Merlin is far from mad but, he yells and tries to tackle him anyway. Arthur catches him and has the servant on his back in three seconds. Merlin yelps, bucking and kicking out. He grabs Arthur’s wrists and tries to force him away. They both know Arthur is superior when it comes to any form of physical combat. But, Arthur isn’t trying to win.

“Get off-!” Merlin shouts breathlessly, his dancing eyes betraying his true feelings. Arthur quickly grabs his own fistful of grass and shoves it in his captive’s face. He yells, loud enough to send some nearby birds fleeing the trees. Sputtering, he spits the blades out while Arthur laughs like a loon. Merlin continues to struggle against Arthur, trying to use his legs to flip them, throwing his body up and against him, puffing out his chest, like he can force the other man off him from his thin torso alone.

Merlin lets go of Arthur’s wrists and tries a new strategy; he shoves his hand against the side of Arthur’s face, forcing him to move. With a crow of triumph, the warlock switches their positions, throwing his entire body weight into Arthur to force him onto his back. There is a split second where Arthur looks surprised, and Merlin sits on his hips, glowing with victory.

The king regent easily flips them again in a move so quick Merlin has no idea what happened. He’s just back against the earth again, breath knocked out of him and Arthur, strong and hot, above him. This time he captures Merlin’s wrists in his rough palms, and when Merlin finally gets his breath back he immediately starts insulting him. “You clotpole! You fiend! Cabbage head!” The servant yells, over-dramatic and panting. “You’re nothing but a--!” He’s cut off by a gasp as Arthur works his knee between Merlin’s thighs.

They’re even closer now, sweating from exertion and the sun. Above him, Arthur is glorious. Against his will, Merlin feels heat pooling low in his belly at the position. Honestly, he’s been growing hard for the last few minutes of wrestling.

“A what, Merlin?” He murmurs, face inches from his servant’s.

His voice is a low rumble that has Merlin shuddering, eyes falling shut as it works through him, before he snaps them open again. The warlock adjusts in Arthur’s hold, their chests and hips brushing. With a jolt, he feels something pressing (long, hot, heavy and unmistakable) into his thigh. It burns like a brand, and takes his breath away. Their gazes meet and hold until they’re just looking into each other’s eyes. They scan each other’s faces, a silent conversation like the ones they’ve held a thousand times before.

Arthur lets go of Merlin’s wrists. As soon as he’s free, Merlin is grabbing onto him, one hand gripping the red fabric of his tunic, the other sliding up Arthur’s strong arm as he holds himself up. From elbow to his shoulder in an unmistakable caress. He watches the king regent let out a shaky breath and lick his unfair lips.

Slowly, so, so slowly, Arthur leans down. His hair tickles Merlin’s forehead, their noses brush. Merlin’s eyes slide shut as he feels Arthur’s breath wash over him. He breathes in at the same time, thinking he can take the very air from Arthur’s lungs into his own. When it becomes obvious that Merlin isn’t going to push him away, Arthur very gently kisses him. It’s chaste and closed mouth, a test, a question that Merlin answers eagerly. His legs wrap around Arthur’s and he opens for his king; a flower blooming under the sun’s warmth.

Consent secured, chastity is tossed out the proverbial window. Merlin licks Arthur’s teeth, exploring his mouth, something new and precious to learn. His pale fingers tangle in blond hair, pulling him closer. The kissing is a revelation, its all heat and electricity that seems to only be building as the seconds pass. Arthur moans into his mouth and Merlin moans back, pleasure between them like an echo.

Arthur re-adjusts his position to deepen the kiss and his knee presses against Merlin's cock. He bucks like he’s been struck by lightning; desperate for more, clutching at the man above him. Arthur’s hand feels so good; hot and rough and possessive as it runs over his ribs, his hip, toying at the waist band before slipping daringly beneath to palm at his ass. Merlin moans wildly at the intimate touch. His mind is so desire soaked that the disbelief that this is happening hardly registers. Deep within him, his magic stirs and swirls.

Arthur massages the globe of one cheek, gripping and encouraging Merlin to rut up again. He obeys, and Arthur breaks away from the kiss to gasp. Merlin opens his eyes to see his flushed face, blue irises eaten by black. And the arm he’s holding himself up shaking from the strain. Merlin tugs on the fist full of golden hair. Arthur’s eyes widen and he lets out what seems to be an involuntary groan if the surprise on his face afterwards is anything to go by. The servant makes a mental note of it, before he flips them.

Arthur oofs as he lands on his back, and looks up at him dazedly, red lips swollen and wet. Merlin can’t even bear it. He swoops back down and clumsily re-initiates the kiss.Their mouths overlap awkwardly, but they make it work. He grabs one of those amazing hands and puts it back on his ass. Arthur’s chuckle is muffled.

A little bit of adjusting and they’re lined up perfectly, cocks pressed together through layers of fabric, his hands on either side of Arthur’s head. The servant shakes with want, hard and leaking and astounded to know Arthur was the same.

' _That's his cock.._.' Merlin thought wonderingly, as he shifted his hips. The man beneath him repeated the movement, grinding them together. It was all rough, damp fabric, and the hot, hard body beneath him.

“Oh,” He said into Arthur’s mouth as pleasure overwhelmed him. They did it again, Arthur guiding their movements with the grip on his ass. Merlin knew the front of his trousers would have a damp stain. He was already hurtling towards what he knew would be one of the best orgasms of his life and they had barely done anything but frot against each other like teenagers. It was just the reality of having Arthur beneath him, Arthur’s hand on his ass, Arthur’s tongue in his mouth, Arthur’s cock against his own. Knowing he was wanted by this man, this amazing, ridiculous man that was turning him on so fucking much.

“Yes!” Merlin shouts, eyes fluttering even as he fought to keep them open. He wants to memorize every second of this; of Arthur’s large pupils, the sweat beading on his forehead, the taste of him, the feel of his rock hard length rubbing against his own. His muscles were starting to burn but, he didn’t let it stop him.

Arthur had thrown his head back, neck bared. Merlin swoops down to suck a mark there. The answering groan of approval vibrates against his mouth.

“Arthur, please...oh gods...” He babbles against golden skin, it tastes like sweat and _Arthur._ Every sense feels heightened, contributing to the growing liquid heat in his belly. His magic bubbles under his skin, filling every cell until he feels on the verge of exploding. Merlin shakes with the effort of holding it in. 

“Merlin,” Arthur breathes, nails digging into his flesh. The other hand goes up to caress his jaw; the warlock turning his face into it, mouthing at the palm. Below him, the other man jerks his hips up in a dirty circle. Merlin’s broken groan is stifled as his lover pulls him down for another desperate kiss. Arthur’s hand moves, from where he has a death grip on Merlin's ass. His finger presses between his lover's cheeks to brush against his hole.

Merlin comes. He keens into Arthur’s mouth, body shaking with it. His trousers become soaked with his spend, as he helplessly jerks in Arthur’s hold. The magic he’s been trying so hard to keep contained spills from him with a weak sob.

Below him, Arthur’s own body spasms, responding to Merlin’s orgasm and the overflow of magic. For a few minutes, the two of them are full of light and love, the pleasure heightening and reverberating off one another.

When it finally dissipates, Merlin falls weakly onto Arthur’s panting frame.

They simply lie there for a few minutes. Hearts pounding wildly against their chests. It is silent but for their fading pants, and birdsong. With a bit of effort, the warlock rolls off his lover and onto his back. Merlin stares up at the sky, its color so reminiscent of the eyes of the man beside him. The man whose cock he just ground his own against until they both came in their pants. Merlin listens to him breathing. He’s listened to the sound so often, its lulled him to sleep on many occasions. Even now, his lids feel heavy.

But, as the silence drags on, his old friend, anxiety, wakes up from where it’d been shoved away for the last few minutes while he fucked his king. Merlin turns his head slowly to look at him. His eyes are closed, and he looks like a golden statue of some ancient sun god. As though sensing the gaze or perhaps hearing his motion, Arthur opens his eyes and looks over at him. They stare at each other for a bit.

Merlin searches for answers to the questions buzzing in his mind. The king reaches out and plucks something from Merlin’s hair where it’s curling from the sweat. Arthur holds it out for their inspection. It’s a purple flower petal. Merlin recognizes it immediately as part of the mallow plant, the herb they'd walked all this way for.

Brows furrowing, he reaches out and goes to take it. Arthur captures his hand instead, trapping the petal between their palms. The warlock’s breath hitches, as he looks at their hands together. They fit perfectly, he thinks.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees splotches of color that he doesn't remember being there before. He sits up so fast it makes Arthur jump.

To his horror, there are flowers. Not only has every single mallow plant grown and bloomed into its bright purple climax, but there are more. Honeysuckles and roses, lavender and lilacs, daises and forget-me-nots. Flowering vines with bright red blooms climb the nearest trees. Wildflowers of every shape and size are already being visited by bees.

Merlin knows his face must look awful, having drained of all color. The afterglow is soured by terror. Arthur sits up as well, alarmed. He looks around and takes it all in. Merlin has begun to shake. He watches his king, waiting to see what he thinks, what he says, so that Merlin knows how to react. Red lips part as he stares at the bountiful blooms, eyes wide with something Merlin doesn’t know, hasn't really seen before. That scares him.

Then Arthur looks at him. Panic makes Merlin’s vision blurry, his hands shake where he’s shoved them between his knees. He’s aware of the congealing mess in his trousers, cold and sticky. He practically vibrates with conflicting instincts; run, stay, hide. He can’t see past the tears that are starting to well, emotion transferring to physical distress.

“Does that always happen then?” Arthur asks, voice soft. Merlin jumps, confusion rushing over him like a flash flood.

“W-what? What? What do you mean?” The words tumble out, falling over each other, hoarse through his tight throat. Arthur looks at him some more before he swallows and nods. Merlin frantically rubs his tears away so he can see his expression. The king’s face is soft. Understanding. Worried. Merlin’s heart is beating out of his chest.

“It’s okay.” He nearly whispers. “It’s okay, Merlin.” More tears are coming and he shakes his head, uncertain what he’s disagreeing with. “Shh. It is.” Slowly, so slowly, Arthur lifts his hand and carefully curls it into the hair on the back of Merlin’s head. Just as slowly he brings their foreheads together. Merlin’s skin is clammy, Arthur’s is warm. He shivers and holds himself so still, terrified and disbelieving. “It’s okay. You’re okay, darling.”

The endearment breaks him. Merlin collapses into Arthur’s waiting arms where he shakes and fights the tears that keep sliding down his face. “Y-you...”He clings to Arthur, choking on all his lies. “You know?” He breathes it into the other man’s neck. He feels it when the king regent swallows.

“That you have magic?” It’s said softly, but it feels like an explosion. Haltingly, Merlin nods. “I do.” Arthur murmurs, like a vow.

A single shuddering sob shakes him and Arthur’s arms tighten around him. A few deep breaths and Merlin has the courage to ask, “Since when?”

It feels like a dream, this entire thing. First the two of them, making love. Then this! Arthur knowing and, and seemingly not hating him for it. He clings harder. “I’ve suspected since the Mortaeus flower.”

Merlin freezes, pulls away a bit to look into the other man’s eyes. “What!?” He hisses, fingers turning white where they’re curling into Arthur’s tunic.

His king nods, beloved blue eyes searching Merlin’s face. “I knew I had a guardian angel. The feel of it was something I’ll never forget. The first time magic not only did something good, but it FELT good as well. It radiated something so familiar to me, that I couldn’t help but trust it.” He runs his fingers through Merlin’s hair again, while the warlock watches him, stunned. “From then on, when there was danger, that same feeling kept arising. It’s this heavy electric thing, like a coming storm. But, it also feels like...like love, I suppose.” Arthur’s cheeks turn slightly pink at that. Merlin’s face on the other hand turns a violent strawberry red. He buries his face in Arthur’s neck again. The other man lets him, hand falling to curl over his skull. “And over time I realized why it felt so familiar...It feels like  _ you _ . I kept watching you and noticing all these little things. And not so little things.” Arthur smiles, massaging the flesh under his hand. “You really aren’t subtle most of the time. Not to mention Gwaine has never seen you at the tavern.”

Merlin pulls away at that. His eyes are red and bright. The warlock is steady, no longer shaking apart. Now he looks at his king, incredulously. “I told you I wasn’t in the bloody tavern!”

Arthur really is beautiful when he laughs, Merlin thinks with his heart full and magic glowing in him.


End file.
